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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28930215">The Ghost in the Library</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecat/pseuds/firecat'>firecat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miss Marple - Agatha Christie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Books, Gen, Gender Roles, Ghosts, Gossington Hall, Libraries, Likely incorrect use of historical British English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:49:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,591</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28930215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecat/pseuds/firecat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane Marple and Dolly Bantry camp out in Gossington Hall, hoping to meet a ghost.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fandom Snowflake Challenge</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Ghost in the Library</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Fandom Snowflake Challenge #11</p><p>Gossington Hall features in the Miss Marple novels <i>The Body in the Library</i> and <i>The Mirror Crack'd From Side to Side</i>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I heard Gossington Hall is on the market again,” Jane Marple says to her friend Dolly Bantry, pouring her some tea. </p><p>Motes of dust dance in the beam of sunshine piercing the tea shop window to grace their table.</p><p>Dolly had lived in Gossington Hall once upon a time, but had sold it when her husband died. It had changed hands many times since then. </p><p>Dolly laughs. “Yes, can you believe it? What bad luck everyone who buys the place seems to have. One begins to wonder if it is haunted.” </p><p>She takes a bite of her raspberry scone, a speciality of this, Jane’s favorite of the tea shops in her hometown of St Mary Mead. </p><p>“But I suppose you consider that notion rather fanciful, Jane,” she continues. “You’re so practical and skeptical.”</p><p>“I wonder,” echoes Jane, nibbling on the corner of a cucumber sandwich. “Ghosts do make for dramatic stories about a place. Rumors that a place is haunted will drive off some of the superstitious, but they will attract curiosity-seekers. Overall, were I able to choose my neighbors, I would like to have the curiosity-seekers.”</p><p>Dolly laughs. “But in all seriousness, Jane. You don’t really believe in ghosts, do you?”</p><p>“Yes, Dolly my dear, I do believe in them. I’ve spoken to several, you know. They are often found near unsolved murders. Especially their own.”</p><p>Dolly’s mouth drops open. “Jane!” she cries, spraying scone crumbs into her tea. “You’re surely joking.”</p><p>“I’m not, my friend. Do you want to know if there really is a ghost at Gossington Hall?”</p><p>“Yes, I...suppose so,” says Dolly, uncertainly.</p><p>“Can you ask leave from the real estate agents to stay overnight? Perhaps they would allow it, seeing as you are a former owner?” </p><p>“It couldn’t hurt to ask.”</p><p>~~~</p><p>“All right, ladies,” says Henry Clithering. “Have a enjoyable adventure, don’t frighten yourselves too much. I’ll be back to pick you up in the morning.”</p><p>Jane and Dolly wave at him from the front doorway of Gossington Hall as he makes his way down the walk, shaking his head slightly. </p><p>“He thinks we’re mad,” Dolly says.</p><p>“Many people have thought me mad,” Jane replies. “I was quite glad, you know, when I finally stopped caring what people believed about me. It’s very restful.”</p><p>Dolly laughs as if her friend has made a great joke. “The things you say, Jane!” </p><p>Jane simply smiles. The friends repair inside to the great library. It was there the dead body of Pamela Reeves was found, so many years ago, and it is there that more recent rumors report a ghost has been seen. </p><p>Seated on a slightly uncomfortable sofa left behind by one of the interim owners of the Hall, Jane sets herself the task of unpacking the picnic basket they brought. There are goose-liver-and-apple sandwiches on black bread, egg salad, lemon curd, more of the incomparable raspberry scones, a tin of butter biscuits, and a large thermos of tea along with two china teacups and saucers. There is no electricity in the currently unoccupied house. So they eat their supper by candlelight. </p><p>“I say, Jane,” Dolly asks as she polishes off the last of the scones. “How do you communicate with ghosts? Do you sense them when others cannot?”</p><p>“I do. I used to be able to see and talk to them when I was a little girl. Then I lost the ability. Now I have it back again.”</p><p>Dolly’s brow creases.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Dolly dear. My mind isn’t going. I still complete the <i>Times</i> crossword puzzle in pen.”</p><p>She pours herself another cup of tea from the thermos. But it has not stayed as hot inside the insulating container as she prefers it, so she sets the cup aside after one sip.</p><p>“Will I be able to see them, do you think?” asks Dolly with trepidation. </p><p>“I don’t know, dear. But don’t be afraid. They won’t hurt you. They only want to be listened to.”</p><p>A biscuit halfway to her mouth, Dolly shudders. “But what of poltergeists?”</p><p>“I have never encountered a poltergeist. I don’t think the opportunity to do mischief is what motivates most ghosts. And they are not very strong, you know. They can affect the material world only in the slightest ways. Blowing a piece of paper off a table, perhaps. Making a candle flicker. Causing one to see a shadow out of the corner of one’s eye, or hear a mysterious sound.”</p><p>Dolly shudders. “What does motivate them?”</p><p>“The ones I’ve talked to have stayed to see through a task, find the answer to a question, communicate something important. If they succeed, they pass on. I think eventually they fade or pass on anyway. I’ve never met a ghost older than a few hundred years.”</p><p>“A few <i>hundred—!”</i> begins Dolly.</p><p>“Hush!” hisses Jane. She grasps Dolly’s wrist. </p><p>The candles flicker and shadows jump against the walls.</p><p>“Do you see her?” asks Jane.</p><p>Dolly is staring toward the bookshelves surrounding the fireplace, squinting. </p><p>“Don’t look directly. Look slightly away,” instructs Jane. She blows out the candles.</p><p>Dolly tilts her head. “That slight glow, in the chair near the fireplace?”</p><p>“Yes, dear. That is she.”</p><p>“Oh! It looks like she’s reading a book!”</p><p>“That does appear to be the case.”</p><p>A large tome lies in the ghost’s lap. It is slightly luminous, like the spirit herself. The entire apparition flickers slightly each time she turns a page. </p><p>They watch for several minutes, breathing shallowly so as not to disturb her.</p><p>Finally they see her close the book. She seems to glide over to the bookcase nearest her, where she shelves the ephemeral volume (it seems to merge into a physical book tnat’s already there), peruses the titles for a moment, and then picks up another. She returns to her chair, settling in, caressing the cover of the large tome. Its gold-embossed lettering sparkles a little in the ghost-glow. </p><p>“Oh! The linen cap she’s wearing! The Spaniel curls! She reminds me of my grandmother,” whispers Dolly excitedly.</p><p>“If I’m not very much mistaken, she is the grandmother of Colonel Bantry, your late husband.” </p><p>Jane pitches her voice a little louder and whispers “Madam?”</p><p>The faintly luminous figure turns slightly. Jane hears her voice more as a whisper in her mind than as a sound upon the air.</p><p>“You can see me? How lovely to have a visitor! What is your name, child?”</p><p>“Oh! I can hear her!” hisses Dolly to Jane.</p><p>Jane squeezes her hand.</p><p>“I am Miss Jane Marple, Madam, and this is my friend Mrs Dolly Bantry.”</p><p>The ghost peers, craning closer, and then a bright smile flickers on her face. “Why, of course! It’s little Dolly, my Arthur’s wife. I know we never met in life, my dear. I passed before you married my grandson. But I was here in the family home, and I watched over you both, you know.”</p><p>“Mrs Bantry...Madam,” Dolly whispers tremulously. Jane is afraid she might faint from the excitement of it all. “Your grandson was very fond of you. He spoke of you often...oh! Do you see him now? Speak to him, since...since he has passed?”</p><p>“He greeted me briefly before he passed on, as most souls do. I stayed behind, because I had not yet completed my task.”</p><p>“What is your task, Madam, if you’re willing to tell us?” asked Jane. “I am always curious what ties a soul to the mortal world when no longer imprisoned in a body. I don’t think I should want to stay behind myself, when my time comes.”</p><p>The ghost of the elder Mrs Bantry seems to regard her. “Oh, I don’t blame you, child,” she says. “‘Imprisoned in a body,’ indeed! A poignant way to put it. Growing old was such a burden. Being all but forgotten in the end, even while I still clung to life. But one thing yet keeps my spirit here.”</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“Ever since I was old enough to toddle after Father, I longed to spend time in his library,” she said. “But, living when I did, I was not allowed to. It would not do for genteel girls and young women to learn too much from books, you know. We were to be accomplished, with dancing, and playing upon the piano, and reciting French poetry — but only so that we might please others. And when we became wives and mothers, we had households to run, children to raise. What woman has time for libraries in those eras of her life?”</p><p>Old Mrs Bantry gazes wistfully at the bookshelves.</p><p>“Ah, but when I passed, my dears, and discovered I didn’t need to move to the next plane immediately. When I learned I could simply stay in the magnificent family library for as long as I wanted. Opening tome after tome. Reading them all. I felt as free as Icarus when he soared on golden wings.”</p><p>“You...” says Dolly, unbelieving. “You stay behind...”</p><p>“Yes, dear. I’ve remained tied to the material world because I have yet to read all the books in this library.”</p><p>She turns to Jane, a brighter twinkle in her luminous eye. “Living in more modern times, and choosing not to marry, you have had more freedom to read and learn than women of my generation had.”</p><p>“And yet,” says Jane, finding that she likes this spirit very much, “the notion of becoming the resident ghost of the British Library holds great attraction.”</p><p>The two old women smile at each other mischeviously, across the curtain separating their minds.</p>
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